


disconnect and reconnect

by nowweareunstoppable



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9703091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowweareunstoppable/pseuds/nowweareunstoppable
Summary: She turned to face him and the shine of tears in her eyes sent Lance’s heart into a sprint. He thought he’d done an okay job with all of this, but he obviously hadn’t, he’d messed up somehow- but his flustered thoughts were cut off when she buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him.





	

“Okay guys, hold really still now. I just need to get in here,” Pidge grunted through the comms. Lance couldn’t see her but when they were Voltron, he wasn’t really just Lance. He was LanceShiroPidgeKeithHunk and he felt his muscles straining to reach something even as he sat unmoving in his pilot’s chair. Keith was too warm, and Lance felt that as well. Sweat started beading at his temples and he concentrated on the smooth track of Shiro’s patience to distract himself.

“Whatever is busted, you’re going to have to talk me through how to fix it on my end, too,” Keith said. The last time they formed Voltron something had shorted out between the two arms. They’d been sending an arc of energy between their hands to draw the sword when part of the cooling system failed. Voltron won the fight (of course, they were amazing) but now they’d reformed a few days later to try and correct the problem.

Lance enjoyed being plugged into his teammates’ minds. Especially when Pidge was chewing on a problem. It felt like electricity crackling through his head, making connections and solving problems Lance couldn’t fully grasp on his own.

“Once I figure out where this is failing exactly, I should be able to do it in Red for you when we’re separated. All the pieces shift, though, between separation and combination so I just have to figure out where…” Pidge trailed off. She did that a lot when she was tinkering. It drove Hunk nuts when they were working on projects together but Lance thought it was kind of endearing.

A cool breeze suddenly swept across Lance’s chest and arms as though his armor didn’t even exist and he sighed in tandem with Keith and Hunk at the reprieve from the heat.

“Pidge, did you just take off your armor?” Lance winced at the quick cycle of disapproval from Shiro and guilt from Pidge.

“I had too! I don’t have enough acute mobility with those gloves on and I’m trying to get this fuse out,” Pidge defended.

“So you needed to take the top plates off too?” Shiro admonished, “You know it’s against regulation-”

“Oh come on, Shiro, I know you’re hot too,” Hunk placated, “Plus, even being unrestrained inside an operating vehicle is technically against Garrison regulations so she’s actually been breaking the rules for like twenty minutes now.” Lance felt a strange twinge from Pidge but it got lost in a whorl of Shiro’s good natured exasperation and amusement from Keith.

“Ha! Got it! I’ll definitely be able to do this on Red later, I understand how the connections transform now.”

After the fact, Lance wasn’t sure who exactly moved. It was just a tiny weight shift caught up in the exaltation and pride and delight of their combined consciousness. Voltron wasn’t used to being so _still_. It could have been Hunk or him, or even Shiro unconsciously adjusting balance to compensate for any one of them, a miniscule movement that wouldn’t even jolt someone who was sitting and strapped in.

But, of course, Pidge wasn’t strapped in. That short, awful feeling of falling jolted up into Lance’s throat and then there was a stinging pain right between his shoulder blades. Hunk and Pidge yelped in unison and Voltron itself flinched.

“Pidge, report,” Shiro barked, his voice tense with worry and pain. But, the pain was already fading from sharp waves to a dull pulse. Lance had been banged around enough in the last few months that he knew it wasn’t a serious injury. 

“I’m okay,” her voice was a bit tight, but sincere, “Just a small burn, no worries.”

Shiro sucked in a deep breath and sighed and Lance felt someone else’s breath push through his lungs. If he tried to describe it to someone else, it would sound gross, but nothing about Voltron really ever felt invasive to him. Voltron was connection, cohesion, being one part of a whole and it was the most complete Lance ever felt.

“Paladins, I believe it would be prudent to return to the Castle. It sounds as though Pidge has determined how to fix the Lions and there is no further need for Voltron.” Allura sounded unruffled and in control as always and her familiar presence quelled the last remaining scraps of anxiety floating around Voltron.

Lance waited until he felt Pidge settle into her piloting station before gently disengaging Blue. He pushed the appropriate controls and mentally undid the hinge inside his gut and then it was just him and Blue floating through the air.

Together they spun and jetted towards Red, trying to nip at her tail but as always, Keith and Red were just a tick faster and Blue’s jaws snapped closed on nothing. Lance laughed out loud and spurred Blue on after them. 

It used to bother him at the Garrison; always being on Keith’s heels and never quite growing even with him, but nowadays Lance was more comfortable with the chase. Keith’s piloting skills gave him a goal to strive towards, and besides, Lance was talented in a number of areas where Keith was lacking, proper social skills being only one of them. Blue hummed in agreement and pride and Lance laughed again.

Red suddenly whipped around and aimed a swipe at their head, but Blue rolled aside with only feet to spare. 

“Watch it, Keith! You’re going to nick our paint job,” Lance yelped.

“Well don’t try and start something you can’t finish then, ass-”  
Black suddenly loomed into view, effectively interrupting Keith’s insult.

“Aaaand we aren’t going to finish that sentence.” 

Lance twisted back towards Pidge and Hunk, eager to escape the scolding that was probably coming, knowing Shiro.

“Focus, young paladins. There is no time for fun! We must always strive to be the best robot lion man we can be,” Lance mumbled to himself in his best dad voice.

“Lance your comm is still on,” Pidge hissed, while Hunk tried to stifle his giggles in the background. Lance squawked in alarm and jetted off away from Black and towards the looming Castle. It was good to hear Pidge’s voice again, though. She sounded fine. But, she was pretty well known for her subterfuge so Lance still made a note to check on her once they landed.

He set Blue down gently in her hangar, (okay maybe he banged her back paw a little on the landing but nobody saw, it was fine) and took a few minutes to rinse her down with the wall mounted hose. The planet they were on was dusty in addition to being hot and Blue looked more and more like Yellow the longer they spent there.

By the time he finished, got his armor off and changed clothes, then meandered over to Green’s hangar Pidge was nowhere to be found. 

“She still inside, Green?” Lance asked but the Lion didn’t give any response other than to power down her lights. “Guess that’s a no then, huh.”

“I sent Pidge to the infirmary,” Coran suddenly spoke up from behind him, making him jump. “I was just about head down there and treat her wound.”

“Ah, don’t worry, I can go help her. I know you’ve been wanting to show Hunk that new recipe and if you don’t get to the kitchen before him I bet he’ll make a mess of it.” Lance hid a smile. He loved poking Coran’s buttons; the man was so expressive it never failed to amuse him.

In true form, Coran nodded smartly and took off towards the kitchen. “Quite right young man, quite right! I wouldn’t trust that paladin with my recipes any more than I would a Three-Eyed Gronkle!” He waved over his shoulder before he turned the corner, “There is some burn salve in the highest cupboard on the left side of the infirmary, I believe.”

“Thanks Coran,” Lance chuckled as the man sped away.

As he walked, Lance hummed softly to himself. He was starting to forget the words to some of the current Earth songs but his Mama’s favorites would always stick with him. Her voice wasn’t amazing by any stretch but while he was growing up she sang to him and his siblings constantly. Laundry songs, beach day songs, and homework songs when memorizing the traditional way just didn’t click. They were silly and sometimes nonsensical but Lance loved them.

He felt the familiar squeeze in his abdomen. Somewhere slightly lower than his heart, but not quite down to his guts. His center, the core of him, missed his home. Lance missed his Mama and Papa, and his siblings and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. He ached for the ocean and the sand he’d grown up on, and the grocery store down the corner that had his favorite kind of apples. He missed the way the light used to slant in through this one part of his blinds that had cracked and fallen off after a particularly rough videogame session with his older sister.

Lance paused for a moment, in an empty stretch of hallway, and pressed his hand to his chest. He felt the thud of his heart, pumping away, strong and steady like always and it calmed him. He’d seen Hunk doing it back at the Garrison their freshman year when he used to get worked up over their flying simulations. Hunk had told him that it helped break him out of his worry cycle. Reminded him that no matter how scared he got, he was solid, and present.

Lance sucked in a steadying breath and let his pulse drive him forward. This situation wasn’t permanent. He would go home someday. His family and the waves and the fruit stands and the sun would all still be waiting for him. There was a purpose for him here. He had another ragtag family to care for and the best spaceship in the universe. He was okay.

He strode up to the door of the infirmary, later than he’d intended to be. The door whooshed open after he prodded the keypad and he was greeted with the sight of Pidge’s back. She’d stripped off her armor and black undershirt and was trying in vain to reach an angry red patch between her shoulder blades.

What was strange, though, was the tight, tube-like tank top she was wearing. It was burned through where Pidge had fallen against the hot metal of her Lion. It didn’t really look like a sports bra, and yes Lance had seen a few of those in person.

Pidge whipped around with a surprised yelp as soon as she heard the door. Her hands jumped to cover herself and Lance could see her ears start to burn scarlet.

“Wha- I thought Coran was coming!”

Lance immediately held his hands up in a placating gesture and lowered his eyes. Pidge was obviously uncomfortable under his gaze. Though he didn’t quite understand why; he’d seen her work out in sports bra before and Allura always seemed to shed her shirt at some point during lifting sessions. It wasn’t like Lance had acted inappropriately about his team’s underclothes before, so he wondered what he’d done this time to unsettle Pidge so strongly.

“Uh, I’m sorry! I can go get him if you want, I just offered to come help instead so he could head to the kitchen early.”

Pidge blinked at him for a second before dropping her hands and ducking her head.

“No, it’s okay.” She didn’t really look okay. Her hair was still sweaty from being in her helmet and a few locks of it were plastered across her forehead. She was pale, except for the hot spots of embarrassment on her cheeks and ears.

“Pidge, what’s the matter?” Lance was confused, to say the least.

“I dunno, I just,” She gestured down at herself and the half tank top thing and explained in her characteristic quick ramble, “I’ve been feeling weird and I’m not sure what’s going on with me yet so I didn’t mention it to anyone.”

“Pidge, what exactly is that?” Lance asked with his head cocked gently to the side.

Pidge blew out a little puff of air and said, “It’s called a binder. I got it for the Garrison when I had to be a boy. My clothes were so baggy it was probably unnecessary but I wanted to take all precautions.” Though she steadily avoided eye contact throughout her explanation, Lance, for his part, was finally starting to get it.

“Ohhh, I’ve heard of those! My cousin talked a few times about her best friend Miguel wearing one.”

Pidge’s eyebrows perked up for a tic, but then she scowled again. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something but she just closed it again after a moment. The toe of her boot scuffed the ground and she started to hunch her shoulders up around her ears in a classic ‘Pidge is uncomfortable’ move that was hard to miss.

Lance wanted to know more, he really did, like should he even be referring to Pidge as a ‘she’ in his head anymore? What did Pidge want; should he just carry on like normal until he was told differently? But, his curiosity would never trump the feelings of his teammate so he attempted to move past it as best he could.

He clapped his hands together, startling Pidge, and sauntered over to the medicinal cupboards.

“No worries, bud. We don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t ready now. Or ever, actually. It’s completely up to you,” he reassured as he dug through the contents of the cupboard and snapped on a pair of gloves. “But, for now, let’s get that burn cleaned up.

Lance was good at forcing nonchalance; it was a good coping mechanism for when he really wanted to freak out. This time, however he just really wanted Pidge to stop looking like she was about to cry.   
He grabbed the salve and a gauze pack and twirled his finger to get Pidge to turn around. The edges of her binder around the burn were blackened and the hole was close enough to the top edge of the fabric that it was threatening to tear.

Lance sighed and said, “Pidge I’m not sure the binder is going to make it through this. It’s a little… crispy.” Pidge hiccupped out what might have been a laugh and it made Lance smile.

“I’m sorry though, I think we have to take it off or I’m not going to be able to do this.” 

A few threads were stuck in the angry red of her skin and it looked painful. But Pidge hesitated and Lance squirmed because he knew that she was definitely not having the best time with all of this and taking the binder off was bound to just make her more uncomfortable, but he couldn’t do much with it still on. Must be why she wanted Coran; chances were the Altean wouldn’t recognize or ask any questions about the binder and Pidge could have bypassed this entire situation. Lance suddenly feels really guilty that messing with Coran turned into inadvertently distressing Pidge.

To her credit though, she only folded in on herself for a moment before squaring her shoulders and giving him a little ‘come on’ hand motion. “All right then. It’ll be easier if you help.”

Pidge directed him on folding the bottom up and then sort of hiking the fabric up over her head. It was tight and sweaty and all in all way more involved then Lance would’ve imagined.

“Sheesh, this thing has a good grasp on you! How do you manage this on your own?” Lance asked as he tried to tug it up and over Pidge’s burn without rubbing against it.

“Heh. The first time I wore it at the Garrison I got stuck with my arms over my head for almost fifteen minutes. Half of that time was me panicking but I managed to wiggle my way out of it eventually,” Pidge smirked, or at least it sounded like she did. She still had her back to Lance and he was in the midst of yanking the binder up over her face, so it was sort of muffling her voice. “After that I watched some tutorials online, but it took me a few weeks before I was brave enough to wear it again. It didn’t matter much anyway; like I said, even my uniform was roomy enough that nobody noticed anything.”

“I sure didn’t,” Lance grunted as he finally freed his friend from the treacherous material.

“You were pretty oblivious,” Pidge murmured, but her voice was quiet again and she crossed her arms tightly around herself. Lance could see her fingers clenching against her sides, pushing white divots into her skin. He wanted to squeeze her shoulder like Shiro probably would if he was here, but he wasn’t sure Pidge would appreciate unnecessary touching.

So instead, he just started to clean out her burn. He tugged any thread remnants out and rinsed it with water and then whatever the Alteans seemed to use as antiseptic. Pidge flinched but didn’t make a sound throughout the ordeal. By the time he rubbed the salve in and carefully applied the bandage she was so tense that the cords of muscle in her back and neck were pulled taught. 

Lance stuck the last edge down and made sure it adhered and then stepped back. “I think that’s as good as I can do. Does it feel okay?”

Pidge looked over her shoulder and nodded. “It’s good.” She blinked down, still topless, at the pile of armor and sweaty clothes on the floor. Lance could see the profile of her eyebrow turn down in distaste and he immediately slipped out of his jacket and shimmied off his t-shirt.

“Here, wear mine. It’s clean, I promise I just changed.”

To his surprise, Pidge didn’t argue. Instead, she just held her arms up and let him tug his shirt down over her head. He made sure it was sitting okay over the bandage and gave her a soft pat on the shoulder to signal when he was done.

She turned to face him and the shine of tears in her eyes sent Lance’s heart into a sprint. He thought he’d done an okay job with all of this, but he obviously hadn’t, he’d messed up somehow- but his flustered thoughts were cut off when she buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

It was a quick hug, all things considered, but all Lance usually got from Pidge was sharp elbows and kicks to the shin whenever he got too close to her breakfast, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain. He managed a quick squeeze back, carefully avoiding her bandage, before she squirmed away.

“Thank you, Lance.”

He grinned and puffed out his chest, “No problem! Maybe I can be team medic AND team sharpshooter. I am a man of many talents, after all.”

Pidge rolled her eyes as she gathered up her armor. “Whatever you say.”

He followed her out the door but before she turned to go down the hallway to their rooms, Lance stopped her. He pawed at the back of his neck, feeling awkward, but forged ahead, “Uh, I think I’m going to just hang out in my room for a bit after lunch. For some quiet time, you know. If, uh, if you want to join me and talk about… stuff, that’d be cool with me.” 

Pidge just looked up at him for a moment and then gave a little nod before turning and padding away. It was more of a ‘I acknowledge what you’re saying’ nod rather than an acceptance of his offer but again, Lance would take it. 

\-------------------------------------- 

Everyone acted fairly normal at lunch. Of course, Lance didn’t have time to tell anyone anything even if Pidge did believe he would have tried, which she absolutely didn’t. He was a chatterbox sometimes but she knew Lance would probably die before betraying the trust of one of his friends. 

The kitchen was loud like always when the entire Castle gathered together. The clinks of silverware on plates mingled with the sounds of Coran and Hunk lightheartedly bickering about the flavoring of the meal and Allura cooing at the mice while Lance tried to tell Shiro about something that’d happened the last time he’d been out piloting Blue on his own. He was flailing his arms around and making zooming noises with his mouth which made Shiro looked bemused but entertained. 

Pidge chose to sequester herself down at the quieter end of the table, however. She slid in next to Keith and ignored his eyebrow quirk. She stayed mostly silent during the meal, only answering a few questions that he directed at her before he caught on that she didn’t feel much like talking.

Pidge hung close to Keith even after the meal wrapped up. His stoic presence tended to smooth out her mind when it started doing anxious acrobatics and and she found that she just needed to sit for a few minutes while she figured out what she wanted to say to Lance, or if she even wanted to say anything at all. 

So, she followed him into the common room and settled down cross-legged at his feet after he perched on the couch and took out a cloth and his knife. Pidge thought if he polished it anymore it he was going to wear a hole in it but apparently Keith disagreed.

She got out her data pad and scooted over a little so that her shoulder was pressing against his calf and Keith did his eyebrow thing again, but seemed pleased. He shifted a little so his knee wasn’t knocking against her head and then started in on his knife.

After a few minutes of mindless tinkering Pidge decided that she was going to go see Lance. Maybe saying stuff out loud would help her untangle this mess she couldn’t seem to work out on her own. She must have sighed or made some sort of noise because Keith put a careful hand on her shoulder.

“You alright?”

She looked up at him and patted his hand, “Yeah. I think I’m going to go talk to Lance, though. Thanks for sitting with me.”

Keith gave her a smile that had a rare goofy quirk to it, “Technically I was here first so you were the one sitting with me.”

Pidge did huff this time as she rolled up onto her feet, “Only by a few seconds, you weirdo.”  
Keith’s chuckle almost made her smile but the tangled up knots in her stomach quelled it before it could surface. She gave him a little wave after she set her data pad on the table and headed towards Lance’s room.

She knocked before pressing the door pad, like any well-adjusted human being would have done (okay maybe she was a _little_ salty about Lance barging in on her in the infirmary) and slipped inside when he called for her to come in.

Lance was sitting sideways on his bed with his back against the wall and legs dangling over the edge. His jacket was all the way zipped up because Pidge was still wearing his tshirt underneath her sweater. When she nosed the hem of her shirt, now Lance’s scent mingled with the fading aroma of Matt. Her heart lurched painfully for a few different reasons and she just stood frozen in the doorway.

Unsure what to do with herself, Pidge felt a flush of awkwardness but Lance just smoothed out the blankets next to him and patted for her to sit down. 

“Pop a squat, dude.”

His phrasing, of all things, forces a short bark of a laugh out of her and makes Lance’s eyes shine with delight.

Pidge hops onto the bed and leaves a little space between them. She sits ramrod straight, unwilling or unable to relax herself enough to lean back against the wall. Where to even begin? She opens her mouth then closes it again when her heart accelerates so fast it feels like it might split her ribcage open. It’s scary; trying to say these thoughts out loud. Even if it’s just to Lance.

Lance seems to sense, in his own Lance way, exactly what she needs and he stretches out across the bed and just manages to reach his bedside table. He fumbles around for a second and then she finds an alarm clock being shoved into her hands. 

“Here, it’s broken. Can you fix it for me?”

Pidge immediately jimmies the back panel off it and starts digging around inside, and the buzzing in her head calms. The energy devoted to anxiety became preoccupied with the innards of the clock instead and she finally found she was able to talk.

“I’m not a boy. But sometimes I don’t feel like I’m a girl, either.” Pidge stilled at tried to look at Lance to gauge his reaction without actually turning her head. From what she could tell, he was still in the same position but now his head was tipped back against the wall, thoughtful.

“What does it feel like?”

Pidge let the question settle while she mulled over how to put it into words. Her fingers started twisting out the wires of Lance’s clock and the task made it easier to merge her thoughts into a cohesive explanation.

“Sometimes, I’m fine. I get up in the mornings and I feel normal. I look in the mirror after I shower and everything is the way it should be.” Lance nodded along.

“But then sometimes, it’s like there’s this disconnect. My body just isn’t… right. It looks like a girl’s body and it just, it- it isn’t… right.” She squeezed her hands into fists, watched her tendons and bones respond to hands that didn’t feel like hers. 

“It’s like what I’m seeing as me doesn’t feel like me. It’s the weirdest thing, Lance, it’s so hard to explain. Like I’m playing a third player video game and the avatar is responding to my commands but I know it’s not who I really am. I’m detached.”

“Pidge-” Lance started, but his voice was too gentle, she didn’t want to hear it. Pity.

“No. I’m okay. I am, I’m not just saying that. When I feel like I want to jump out of myself, the binder helps. It makes my body not feel so alien. It’s scary, though. Not feeling present.” She finally turns to look at him. “I don’t like it.”

Pidge is surprised to see he’s got tears in his eyes. His lip is twitching down on the right side which she knows means he’s trying hard not to cry.

“Lance! What the hell!” She shoves him a little and he puffs out a little self deprecating laugh and scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Sorry! Sorry. I just, I’m sorry. That you’ve been feeling like this and there’s nobody on this ship who’s really trained and equipped to deal with this. I wish I knew what to say to help, Pidge-” 

“Lance, it’s okay.”

“No! It’s not okay. You deserve to feel happy and normal and right.” He was crying now, little tears that dripped off his jaw. Pidge felt her eyes dampen and spill over in response. Damned mirror neurons.

She didn’t really want him to see her cry so she leaned forward and ducked her head into his chest. Lance brought his hand up to wrap around the back of her head. Sheesh, he was so long. His thumb and fingers could touch both her ears at the same time, that was insane.

“Would-” He sniffed. “Would pronouns help?”

“Pronouns?” Pidge questioned, muffled into his jacket.

“Yeah,” he waved his other arm, the one not wrapped around her, while he explained, “Like you said you feel like a girl sometimes, so she and her pronouns maybe on those days, but when you’re feeling like… other, maybe we could use different pronouns? And that might help with the disconnect and all that?”

Hmm. Pidge snuffled and pulled back from Lance to think about it. “Yeah, um, maybe we could try they and them?”

Lance nodded so fast it set his little cowlick waving in the breeze. “Yes, totally! They and them, got it. Now? Or she and her today?”

“They and them. We can try it out at least.” Pidge nodded decidedly. She turned the words over like pebbles in her head and then wrapped her tongue around them and said them again, “They. Them.” She- no, they weren’t sure if they were exactly right yet but even thinking about using different pronouns sent a tiny thrill through them.

They swallowed and fidgeted with the clock wires. The problem was already figured out and fixed but they could probably make it run smoother if they just bypassed some of the original (useless) workings.

“Maybe not tell the others yet, though?” Saying this again in front of Shiro, or Allura? Jesus. No. Not today. Their stomach felt like it did a complete 180 flip just considering it.

Lance rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully, “Hmm. How about a secret code so the others don’t know? Or hand signals!” He gasped, “Smoke signals!”

Pidge thumped their head back against the wall in faux exasperation, but couldn’t help giggling at his enthusiasm. “No signals! And especially no smoke, Allura still hasn’t let me and Hunk off the hook for that small (it wasn’t small) fire in the hangar the other day.”

“Ohhh, you’re still on vent duty?”

“Yes, and let me tell you, ten thousand years of dust is just incomprehensible until you’re shoved up inside those things.”

“You’re a braver woma- uh, human than me, that’s for sure,” Lance said, wincing a little at his slip but valiantly carrying on. 

“It’s fine Lance. It’ll probably take some getting used to from both of us. I’ll tell the others in awhile. Just not yet. For now, when you and I are hanging out alone we can use the pronouns, but otherwise just act normal.”

Lance whipped out a crisp salute, “Sounds like a plan. Oh, and maybe Coran can help fix your binder. The man knows how to do absolutely everything; sewing skills have to be in that repertoire of his somewhere.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Pidge twists the last wire and then returns the back panel onto the clock and hands it back to Lance, who stretches again and puts it back on his bedside table.

Even though none of them had much decoration in their rooms yet, Lance’s still felt like his. It was on the side of messy, but not overwhelming and his blue lion slippers and robe were carefully placed by the door. The automatic Castle lighting was turned down in favor of a warm glow coming from a porthole-like molding on the wall next to his bed.

“Ah, Hunk finally got the timing right?” Pidge asked and Lance nodded in response. It would have been late afternoon on Earth, and the cozy light filtering in through his window had the golden quality of a lazy Sunday afternoon. Pidge surveyed the drifting dust motes, a familiar wonder igniting in their eyes. Hunk had really outdone himself by syncing the artificial bulbs with Earth hours and light tones. It felt real. Like they could pull back the window cover and see their mom digging around in the garden while Gunther tried to catch the weeds she threw over her shoulder. If it weren’t for the ever present electric hum of the Castle’s systems, it would have been hard to distinguish where they were.

Pidge shuffles a little closer to him on the bed so that their shoulders are touching. They see Lance tip his head back against the wall and stifle a smile out of the corner of her eye. Affection blooms in their chest for their goofy friend who is trying so hard to be quiet and still for them.

Nothing they could say would ever make Lance think any less of them, Pidge knew in that moment. The sunlight, the warmth of Lance’s shoulder pressing against theirs, it all made Pidge feel safe, and right. 

When the both tire of sitting still and start wrestling instead, they end up in a laughing heap on the floor. The headlock Pidge had Lance was maybe a little gentler than it usually would have been but he still squawked the same way he did any other time they roughhoused. And when he wiggled free and tackled them, and they shoved their foot into his face to get him away and their toes went into his mouth by accident, they both laughed so hard Pidge thought they might burst from the joy of it.

\--------------------------

When Pidge tells everyone else a few weeks later, with Lance’s help, Keith is actually the one who sews them two more binders (“I lived alone in the desert, guys. I had to learn to fix my own clothes or I would have been naked by the time you found me.” “Oh, I thought your jacket was so small because every time it got ripped you just cut it shorter.” “Lance, I swear-”)

Shiro becomes even more nurturing than usual, (“You know not to bind during exercise, right? Those things can constrict breathing. And don’t wear it while you’re sleeping!”)

Hunk and Coran make them a cake and Allura tells her all about the vast Altean gender spectrum. Whenever Pidge starts feeling bad, and they do sometimes, they have an entire ship to go to and they feel so, so incredibly lucky. They and she are loved, no matter what kind of day it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! First of all, I want to say a huge freakin' thank you to everyone who commented on my first Voltron fic. You really blew me away and I am so grateful. Y'all are a fic writer's dream.
> 
> Secondly, I currently identify as a cis female. I did some research about gender and gender dysphoria for this fic but obviously there are infinite things I just don't know. If any portrayal in this offends anyone, or I got something wrong, or you just want to teach me more, please let me know!! (tumblr is nowweareunstoppable, drop me a message if you don't want to comment on here)
> 
> Lastly, I can see why this fandom likes Lance so much. He's such an easy window to write through. I almost feel lazy using him like I do, because his character is such a joy. My next one will be about Pidge and Shiro and Keith so maybe that'll be more of a challenge :) Until then, I love and appreciate you all, and I hope your days are going well!


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